


i am a little church (no great cathedral)

by Kosaji



Series: Pianist!Hayato [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosaji/pseuds/Kosaji
Summary: Hayato finds out the truth about his mother earlier, and decides to follow in her footsteps.OR20 snapshots of Hayato's life after his world is rocked to its core.





	i am a little church (no great cathedral)

**1\. Mother**

Hayato is six years old when he overhears the maids talking about the pretty lady who stopped visiting a while ago.

She wasn’t a teacher or one of his father’s guest, she was his mother, his _real_ mother. He’s been talking to and playing with her and he never even knew. And his father had her killed.

Is that why she always looked so sad when she had to leave? And Father never came to see her, even though he always watches at least one of his and Bianchi’s tutoring sessions.

It makes sense, something in the back of his mind whispers. Mother, no, Maria Cordone was always a bit distant. Leaving him with the nannies and spending more time with Bianchi than him.

He doesn't ask the maids anything, knows better than to let them know what he heard. He runs away from  home, which in hindsight was not his brightest idea when he is caught within three days and dropped in front of his father's desk like an errant kitten.

 

**2\. Father**

His father, Hayato sneers, tries to ask him what is wrong, tries soft words, then angry ones, then tries to guilt him, saying Bianchi and his mother-

"She's not my mom!" Hayato snaps out before he can finish the sentence, fists clenched by his sides. "You can't say she missed me when you're the reason she's dead!"

The air stills, trembling between them as Hayato glares and Giovanni's face takes on a pasty shade of white.

"Where did you hear that?" The air thickens, making it hard to breathe. Hayato doesn't know what's going on but right now his father looks really scary. Like he sometimes did when there were surprise meetings with important looking people that he and Bianchi were ushered away from.

"I-" Hayato's throat closes up at the furious energy pouring off Giovanni in waves. His eyes dart away, and he flinches as Giovanni rises to his feet and walks around the desk to stand in front of him.

He stands there, eyes kept firmly to the carpet, when Giovanni sighs and sinks down to his knees. Large hands cover his shoulders, and Hayato looks up to meet his father's sad face.

"If I could have, I would have married your mother," he says and Hayato's mind goes blank.

No. No he wouldn't. If he did then Mama would be-

"She refused. Over and over again, and it was only after the accident I found out she was sick. She was dying, Hayato, and didn't want to burden either of us."

No. Hayato scrubs his eyes as tears well up and a hiccup escapes.

"I'm sorry."

And Hayato breaks, falling into his father's arms.

 

3\. **Piano**

Hayato throws himself into his piano lessons, playing until his fingertips bruise and his back is stiff from sitting long hours on the bench.

It is the only connection he has to the mother he barely knew, his father becoming distant since that day in his office. And if he thought Maria was distant before, it’s nothing compared to the frigidness he gets from her now.

When he masters a difficult piece or his teachers hail him as a prodigy, he likes to think that maybe Mama would have been proud.

 

**4\. Cookie**

He's seven when he has his first piano recital.

Hayato peeks down at the gathered crowd of adults, worrying his lip between his teeth.

"Hayato." Bianchi appears behind him. "Are you nervous?"

Hayato scowls, ducking his head to avoid the knowing look on his sister's (half-sister? Hayato didn't know how to feel about that) face. Bianchi had a new dress on, the first thing he notices, a pretty dark blue to match his suit. The second is the plate of cookies in her hands.

His mouth waters as he takes one from the offered plate. It’s warm and smells sweet, like sugar and melted butter and crumbles perfectly in his mouth as he takes a bite.

He doesn't remember what happens next.

 

**5\. Storm**

He activates his flames as a self-defense mechanism.

They eat through the poison infecting his body, breaking it down while he suffers from shakes and a fever and a clawing pain eating him from the inside out-

So his Flames eat the poison instead.

He recovers within a day, and the next week his father is smiling at him, a plate of Bianchi's cookies and the sheet music for another piano recital waiting for him.

 

**6\. Hollow**

It’s not like he didn’t try to say something.

His father, and God did it burn talking to the man, kept saying that it was good publicity for Hayato. That his unique style will bring him to the top of the world stage.

As long as you ignore that I’m being poisoned, Hayato thinks, storming down the hall after another attempt to get his father to stop scheduling his ‘special’ recitals. From the corner of his eye he sees Bianchi and phantom pains grip his stomach, and he lunges through the nearest doorway, slamming it behind him. Looking up with a groan, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach like it would help keep the pain away, he sees the practice piano.

Knocking his head back against the door, he considers the piano dispassionately. Just looking at it brings the sick feeling back, a Pavlovian response. It was because of the piano that he was going through this, and he's starting to hate it. If only he couldn’t play…

A faint memory of long fingers ghosting across gleaming keys, a kind but sad face that always, always had a smile for him echoes in his mind and he freezes, dropping one of his explosives with a clatter. The sound echoes in the room as Hayato fixes his eyes on a black bench and white keys.

Which did he value more: his mother’s memory or his continued health and sanity?

Hayato levers himself up and stumbles to the piano, plopping down onto the bench with none of the grace his instructors demand of him. His fingers trail across the keys, plucking a tuneless melody.

It isn’t really a choice.

 

**7\. Rain**

When he thinks back he will realize that he sparks his Rain flames without knowing. Rain to keep him calm, to hide the anger and fear that maybe this would be the last recital, that maybe this would be the one he wouldn’t survive.

He keeps playing though, calm and steady until the applause pierces through his muted senses.

He takes his bow and walks off the raised platform and out of the hall. The servants already have the door open and the hallways clear for him as the calm lifts and he shifts from a walk to a run, the route painfully familiar as he barely makes it to the restroom in time.

Again.

“Hayato?” He jumps, his gut roiling at his sister’s voice behind him.

“Go away,” he snarls before choking and leaning over the toilet. A hand touches his back and he flinches, shuddering as it strokes soothingly up and down his back and pulls his hair gently back. He can’t decide whether he wants to lean into the comforting touch or smack her hand away.

“…I’ll talk to Father about the recitals,” Bianchi says when he’s done, his hot face pressed to the cool porcelain.

Hayato barks out a laugh, and from the corner of his eyes he sees Bianchi start. “He’s not going to listen.”

“I’ll make him listen,” Bianchi argues, her eyes taking on a cool and steely gaze. “He’ll stop once he sees-”

“Why do you care? It’s not like this is new!” Hayato glares, swiping a hand across his mouth. He flushes the toilet and goes to wash the sour taste out of his mouth, dreading the next part of the night when the remnants of whatever poison Bianchi created works through his system, leaving him sick and miserable.

“You seemed to be doing better,” Bianchi says quietly. He turns to see her looking down, unsure but Hayato is too tired, too numb.

Paralytic, he thinks. It would explain why it was harder to move than usual during the recital. His head feels heavy, and he could feel his heart pounding slowly in his ear. _Ba-dum, Ba-dum._

“Do what you want,” he mumbles, brushing past her to his room. The only bright side to this is that everyone leaves him alone afterward, which quite frankly? Hayato really appreciates.

 

**8\. Delusion**

It comes to a point where Hayato can’t lie to himself anymore.

He was right, the recitals continued and with them Bianchi’s poisoned food.

Poison cooking, what a laugh that had been to find out. Hayato could have told anyone that Bianchi’s food was weird but no one wanted to listen. In fact his father was proud of his daughter’s rare skill set.

The forced feeding didn’t stop either.

Hayato didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he father had claps his hand against his shoulder and says that since Hayato didn’t die from Bianchi’s cooking, it must mean that he was resistant to it, just like he was.

He carefully doesn’t think of the other parties his father throws, where he directs Bianchi to specific people with the gentle encouragement to offer them refreshments. He doesn’t think how some of them never show up to the castle again.

He can’t stop thinking of it now, as he watches Doctor Shamal inject an antidote into his arm. A bite from one of his famous Trident Mosquitoes itches fiercely on his neck but he’ll take it any day over the extreme pain that was wracking his body.

“I don’t know if you’re a lucky kid or a poor bastard,” Shamal shakes his head, missing Hayato's flinch at _that word_. “That poison should have killed you. It would have killed anyone else. The cure isn’t exactly easy to come by.” Shamal spins around on his chair, setting aside his tools.

Killed.

In the two years since the ‘special recitals’ started his sister had only gotten better at her Poison Cooking, especially once their father contracted tutors for her, and Shamal’s expertise in keeping her test subjects alive.

“Stay in bed for the rest of the day. I’ll give you the antidote to the disease once the poison’s gone,” Hayato hears Shamal say but its drowned out by the buzzing in his ears.

His sister almost killed him today and Hayato finally lets go of the delusion that he could wait this out. That it would stop soon enough.

He doesn’t want a family like this.

If they won’t stop, then he’d leave. He won't be trapped.

 

**9\. Name**

He's smarter about running away this time, nine years old instead of six and idealistically stupid.

He makes plans, back-up plans and back ups to his back-up plans.

At the end of it he's broke, on the streets with a new name.

Hayato Gokudera.

It tastes of freedom.

 

**10\. Smoke**

He hates himself for it, but the first few weeks he runs jobs for whatever Famiglia would hire him. Piano was expensive, and no one would hire a kid to play, even if he was a genius.

Smoke clings to his clothes, black powder staining his fingers as he makes a name for himself as the Smoking Bomb.

(If he scrubs his hands till they're raw after a hit, or he plays till his fingers are numb, then its no one's business but his.)

 

**11\. Fragile**

He manages to scrap enough money together to get an apartment, shared with five others who he trusts about as far as he can throw them.

He learns to sleep lightly, with a knife and a stick of dynamite within reach.

But it’s a start, Hayato thinks, scrubbing away the dirt from the day and changing into the nicest clothes he owned, something he kept painstakingly safe and clean.

He makes his way to a small cafe, where the owner let him practice piano as long as he wanted. He even gets paid for it, though it was a pitiful amount. He still needs to run jobs for the Mafia to make ends meet.

Still, he thinks, fingers picking their way through a difficult chord. This fragile existence was better than before. This was the start of a new life, one entirely his own.

 

**12\. Change**

Changes come as a whirlwind of brown and gold, summer turning to fall and before he knows it Hayato has spent over three years on the streets.

He leaves Naples behind as a memory, hopping city to city, each time trying to make his way with what meager skills he possesses. He moves when he needs to, when he can't find work or the local families kick him out. On his last job he kills a Don barely important enough to control a neighborhood and destabilizes the entire structure of the up and coming Famiglia. The pay he gets is used to get him out of town, away from grieving widows and angry underlings looking for revenge.

It’s enough to get him a rental locker for his valuables but not much else. He peddles his piano skills for any place that would take him, and somehow he manages to get a job at the hospital, playing five hours a day.

The pay wasn't much but he could eat at the cafeteria for free so Hayato wasn't upset. At least this way all he has to worry about was finding a place to sleep each night.

He ignores the applause as he stands up, ready to leave when a girl just a few years older than him stops him as he's leaving the piano.

"You're Hayato Cordone aren't you?" she grins, bouncing on the toes of her expensive shoes as she waits for him to speak.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Hayato says sharply, eyes darting around the cafeteria in case anyone heard that name. He won't be taken back to his family, he WON'T.

"I went to one of your concerts-" Well shit. "-and I thought I recognized you! What are you doing here?"

"None of your business, now leave me alone!" Hayato storms off only to freeze. There, sitting at one of the tables and at the doorway were two mafioso. One of them looks the girl over and dismisses her, and focuses on Hayato who's being asked for an autograph?

"What?" his mouth is gaping unattractively but he can't stop, staring down at the pen and notepad in complete bewilderment.

"I've been visiting the hospital to hear you play, you really haven't lost your touch!" The girl flips the notebook open, holding it carefully between them. On it, scribbled across the page was a single word.

_RUN._

He looks up at the girl, noticing that the corners of her eyes were tense, her mouth tight, and dips his head slightly. Keeping his body hidden behind her taller frame he pulls out a small canister at the same time he accepts the notebook. There is movement out of the corner of his eye and he throws the smoke bomb down and grabs the girl's hand, pulling her along as the men curse and try to find them through the smoke.

Screams ring out as the civilians panic, and he uses the distraction to head up the emergency exit. A sharp tug throws him off balance and he turns to yell at the girl but sees her pull the fire alarm.

Not bad, he grudgingly thinks as he pulls her along again, shoving their way into the crowd trying to escape the hospital. The minute they are on the streets Hayato takes off, pulling the girl behind him when she starts to fall behind.

He doesn't know why he didn't ditched her back at the hospital. Maybe it was to get answers, maybe to pay her back for warning him.

He wasn't sure, but when they were far, far away from the hospital and laughing hysterically over their escape, he didn't feel so alone.

 

**13\. Alley Cat**

Her name is Valeria Falco, she's a singer, a GOOD singer. Someone with a middle class family and prospects and a future career.

Her family owes the Mafia money. A lot of it. And she is their golden goose.

Endorsement deals, concerts and the occasional CD allowed her to make money quickly, fast enough to keep her family's debtors happy and allow her some degree of freedom.

As long as she keeps up the pace, Hayato thinks. With the money she was making (and she showed him the figures -it was good money the Nero family were making off her) she was going to be trapped underneath the mafia's thumb before her parents' debt could be paid back.

Hayato sips at his milk, keeping an eye on Valeria as she moves around the kitchen in the small apartment she's renting. Close to the nearest recording studio but out of the reach of the Nero family's territory, it is a fragile illusion of independence she’s managed to create.

"So then, Hari said to-" Valeria continues, talking about her agent (chosen by the Family), pushing a plate with a heated up frozen dinner at him. She learns quickly that Hayato doesn't eat sweets and the next time he comes over she has a plate of savory food or snacks waiting.

She also likes to call him an alley cat.

It bristles at his pride, and he still doesn't know why he keeps coming back, but so far he hasn't been turned away and the free food was too much to give up.

(One time while she let him use her laundry she caught him looking at her books for school. When he came back four days later there was a stack of books on science, math and engineering waiting for him alongside a plate of sandwiches, still in their wrappers)

"So anyways, I can get you in to practice on Sundays," Valeria finishes, tossing perfectly curled brown locks over her shoulder.

Hayato chokes. "What?"

"Piano? I need more practice singing alongside an instrument so I got the directors to sign off on a stipend to hire a piano teacher." Hayato puts the fork down as Valeria blinks at him, head tilted in confusion. Like it was normal for someone to offer a street rat their dreams just like that, no strings attached.

He realizes he's talking out loud when Valeria snorts.

"Oh, this isn't for free, kitty cat." Hayato scowls at the nickname as Valeria snickers but straightens up, leaning over the table to come eye-level with him.

"You, you had talent. Passion for the piano. I mean, some of your recitals were weird but they were still pretty great." Gee thanks.

"Shut up kitten," Valeria's smile takes on an edge and she tosses down a folder in front of him. A flip of her wrist shows pages of sheet music, exercises and actual pieces meant to be played on the piano. "Listen, I know the pianist they've hired, and he's good. But you're _better,_ " she leans in, "And I want the best. You come with me to the sessions and practice under an actual teacher, and I'll split the remainders of my earnings with you, 30-70. The Mafia screwed us both over, but there isn't really a reason for you to stay with them when you can play."

The sheet music lays innocently on the table, yet Hayato doesn't make a move towards it, no matter how much he wants to. This is everything he wanted, a chance to play, and he couldn't move.

"I need to go." Hayato is throwing on his coat and is out the door before he realizes what he's doing, Valeria calling his name behind him. He runs down the alley, through the weaving streets, until he can't breathe. Slowing to a walk he shivers. It was getting colder as winter approached, and he knew from experience his coat wasn't enough to keep him warm at night.

Would it be so bad? He wonders, looking up at the sky, stained in the orange and pinks of sunset. It wasn't like he had anyone who tried to help him before. Sure Shamal helped him get jobs, enough to establish the beginnings of a reputation, but he never stuck around afterwards.

She already let him wander freely through her home, she doesn't have to do anything else. Why did it matter to her if he played again? Hayato kicks at a pebble and does not think of playing piano, with an _actual teacher_ if what Valeria said was true.

He looks up and a harsh laugh escapes him. Valeria's apartment is across the street, the lights still on.

Stray cat indeed, he sneers at himself. But.

No one has ever asked Hayato to stay.

He walks across the street and opens the door with the key she gave him three days ago.

"I'll do it."

 

**14\. Bianchi**

His sister finds him three months later.

Valeria opens the door with Hayato right behind her. When he sets his eyes on his sister for the first time in over four years his stomach gurgles and cramps, the pain sending him the to floor.

"Hayato!" Valeria and Bianchi both lunge for him but are too late. The last thing he sees is Bianchi's pink hair and the way Valeria's knuckles turn white around the umbrella she's holding.

He wakes up in his bed, a glass of water on the bedside table. He drinks it down slowly, taking it with him out to the living room where Valeria and Bianchi sit across the coffee table from each other.

Is it too late to pretend he's still asleep?

"Hayato come here," Valeria pats the sofa next to her. Hayato takes the seat, sinking into the old sofa, and keeps his eyes well away from his sister's face. "Bianchi and I have been talking."

Great. His sister looks well, dressed in a stylish halter and a jacket that pairs well with her light colored pants. It's a striking dichotomy against Valeria, who favors blouses with long skirts, but he can feel the brass knuckles hidden in Valeria's skirt against his thigh and he spots three knives and a gun hidden on Bianchi's person.

Not too dissimilar after all.

"I'm not going back," he says immediately. Beside him Valeria's smile tightens, but Bianchi nods her head out of the corner of his eye.

"I know," his sister says, collapsing the ire building in his chest. "I've left home as well."

What.

"But... you're the heir." Him leaving home and disowning himself was one thing. He was the bastard, the spare. Bianchi was their father's legitimate heir, and with her poison cooking she is incredibly valuable.

"Not anymore," Bianchi set her cup down with a sharp click. "I'm a hit-woman now."

"You're fifteen," Valeria points out, like Bianchi’s age is the problem, not the fact that she’s going to kill people for money. Sometimes Hayato adores the ruthless side of her. .

"Age doesn't really matter in the mafia," Bianchi says, and Hayato squirms, thinking of his own hits while he was still on the streets. "Ability does, and I have control over my Flames. That's all that matters in this world."

Valeria looks unhappy but nods, settling back and pressing her arm against Hayato's. He leans back slightly, giving and taking comfort as Bianchi watches them with an unreadable expression.

"I came here to see how you were doing," she addresses Hayato. "Shamal lost track of you several months ago, I only found you by accident."

Shamal was watching him? Hayato scowls. "I don't need you looking after me. Why would he care anyways, I'm not his patient anymore."

"You're still my brother," Bianchi frowns. "Shamal told me what my cooking was doing to you. I'm sorry Hayato, I didn't know."

Sorry.

Hayato stands, arms trembling from the force of his clenched fists.

Sorry.

Long nights spent hunched over the toilet and recovering from what new poison Bianchi created, came to mind. Pain echoes through his stomach again but he ignores it with practiced ease as he glares past Bianchi's ear.

"Sorry doesn't matter, you still went along with it!" On some level he knew it wasn't his sister's fault. Their father was the one to encourage him to eat the food, and his step-mother the one who told him to keep quiet, but he couldn't help it. He was throwing up every time he ate her cooking. Even without telling her anything how could she just not notice?

"I'm doing fine on my own, I don't need you or Father or anyone else," Hayato finishes, and stomps back to his room, letting the door shut _quietly_ behind him because Valeria laid down the house rules the first time he dared to slam a door.

There's quiet for a few moments as he slumps down the adjacent wall. He hears Valeria and Bianchi talk quietly, exchanging phone numbers before Bianchi leaves.

He gives it a few minutes but isn't surprised when the knock comes on the door. "It's open."

The door squeaks open but he keeps his head down, staring at his feet. There's a sigh and the door is closed. Clothing rustles as Valeria joins him on the floor, her feet stretched out in front of her.

"Looks like we're going to need to talk, huh?" A toe nudges at his feet.

"...yeah."

 

**15\. Flames**

"So what are these Flames Bianchi was talking about? I could hear the capital letter." Valeria is bent over her desk, homework getting the better of even rising singing sensations. Hayato would have been more amused if there wasn't an equally tall stack of papers and books next to him, waiting to be completed. One thing he didn't expect from civilian life, homework. Ugh.

"I tell you my family drama and all you want to know about is fire?"

"It's magic fire, Hayato! The mafia has magical, sparkly fire!"

It means breaking omerta, but she's already involved peripherally in the Mafia. It takes another ten minutes of whining and outright bribes before he breaks down and tells her about Dying Will Flames.

 

**16\. Japanese**

"K-konchewaa?"

"Your accent is atrocious."

"Well no one asked you, kitten. Why is it easier to sing in a foreign language than speak it?" Valeria whines, slapping a set of worksheets over her face. Hayato snickers over his own half filled Japanese worksheets.

"You don't have to learn it you know," He says, transcribing the hiragana carefully.

"It's your mom's language, I can understand wanting to know your roots better." There's a faint twist to her lips as Valeria stares off into the distance. "I learned French and English for work, so why not Japanese, too? Besides, this is fun." And something not mafia related, is left unsaid.

Hayato nods and goes back to his worksheets.

 

**17\. Reputation**

He's thirteen years old, standing backstage and trying not to ruin the lines of the new suit as the whispers surround him.

He knows he has a reputation, that he will have to prove himself different not only from other pianists but also from his mafia father to those in the know.

He just didn't think he would have to deal with his mother's reputation as well.

_What a scandal... Is it true? Is the child of THAT girl really playing here? Do you think he knows? She died young, didn't she?_

When he researched his mother he knew that her career was ruined for having a child out of wedlock with a mafia don. He just didn't expect that people would still care, years after her death.

The musical world was smaller than he thought, and even smaller-minded.

A rustle of silk and the scent of lilacs fill his nose. "Ignore them," Valeria says, tossing a bright smile to the trio whispering to their left. They pale and look away, caught out. "Just go out there and show them exactly what Hayato Gokudera is made of."

She straightens his tie and tugs at his jacket before heading back to the audience with a wave.

They have been planning his debut carefully. He was a prodigy at six, there was no hiding his talent without compromising his (and Valeria's) principles, but he couldn't come across as too talented and gain unwanted attention. They can't just have him play for Valeria either, he needs to establish himself independently to stop any questions of nepotism.

They settle with a solo accompaniment to a singer Valeria is on friendly terms with, a man with bright blue eyes and a charming smile. His dark looks play well against Hayato's silver hair and green eyes, and most importantly Matteo has no problems with being used as a stepping stone.

Part of the business, he confides to Hayato when they meet over coffee to discuss details. It fosters relationships that can be useful in the future. Besides, Valeria vouches for you, and that girl's intuition is excellent.

An aide motions him forward and he steps onto the stage. He sees Matteo at center stage and as rehearsed, draws level with the man, bows briefly to the audience before walking to the grand piano placed just off center of the stage, highlighting Matteo as the main attraction.

Hayato doesn't care. The white keys gleam as the stage lights beat down on him. He waits for his cue before lifting his fingers to the keys, brushing against them without pressing down, and plays.

He loses himself in the notes, can visualize them wrapping around him and flinging themselves through the hall, joining Matteo's voice in mesmerizing the audience.

He comes back to himself only when the song comes to a close, opening his eyes as the final notes fade.

He turns to the audience, to Valeria smiling from her seat at the front of the stage and accepts their applause before launching into the next song.

 

**18\. Attention**

It's six months later when men in suits appear at the restaurant Hayato's playing for. He sees them out of the corner of his eye but keeps playing. When the song comes to an end he reaches for the sheet music, using the motion to hide his hand going for the phone to tap out an SOS to Valeria.

He moves onto the next set of songs, playing flawlessly even as his back stiffens the longer the men sit and chat. Maybe it's the attitude of the new arrivals, maybe it is the tension that the waitstaff carry in their eyes and the corners of their mouths, but the restaurant empties quicker than usual. The waitstaff are dismissed as the owner pockets a stack of bills, some of them looking like they want to take him along with them.

Those he shakes his head at, motioning with his eyes to leave, and the restaurant is empty save for Hayato and the mafia. He slows to a stop, letting the final notes ring in the air before turning to face his audience.

Five men in total, all wearing suits. Three of them are muscle, Hayato notes the guns hidden away, while the other two were higher up. Not a capo, no they wouldn't bother with anyone that high up for what Hayato thinks this is.

"Bravo!" The man in the awful yellow tie claps, the rest of the group following suit. "I haven't heard such beautiful playing in years!"

"Thank you," Hayato says, staying perfectly still. Bide your time till you can escape, he reminds himself.

"Hayato Gokudera, you've really made a name for yourself these past few months."

And there is reason number two he and Valeria tried to keep from attracting too much attention. A pianist, one with Mafia connections who can play at his level brings opportunities. Networking, jobs that bring him in contact with the upper class who will pay to see him perform, the ability to help grow a Family's operations and increase their influence. Keeping a pet pianist also brings some level of prestige, a bragging point between Families.

Hayato spent three years on the streets, floating around the edges of the Mafia in order to keep alive. He has a reputation, one that he wishes he can retire, but it is useful. Especially to remind people that once he was the reckless Smoking Bomb, unpredictable but good at his job.

"Again, thank you for your kind words," Hayato lies, smiling the flawless camera ready smile Valeria uses to get out of talking to people she hates. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are, Mr -?"

Lie. Hayato pegged him as one of the underlings for the minor Family in the area. Probably Cesario, Bianchi told him once that Cesario boss is big on "fine entertainment".

Mostly to up his reputation, Bianchi confides the few times she drops by to check on him. He wants to break into circles he really has no business running in.

"Casto Menotti. Hayato, are you really happy playing here, for the common people?" Casto waves a hand around the restaurant.

"This is a four-star restaurant," Hayato points out, glee hidden under a blank mask as Casto's smile turns crooked.

"Of course, of course, I mean no disrespect! But wouldn't you like to be playing on stage, go on tour? You have so much talent to be wasted accompanying minor musicians and playing in cafes," Casto says passionately, stepping up and putting a hand on Hayato's shoulder.

"I think I'm fine the way I am," Hayato says, grabbing the offending hand and gently lifting it off. He gets up and collects his music. "Thank you for your time, but I don't think we have any further business to discuss."

Casto's face turns red and he reaches for Hayato. "This isn't a request Smoking Bomb."

Papers are thrown in the air, a flashbang hidden among them as Hayato ducks under the piano, covers his eyes and counts. Shouts fill the room as the flash goes off and Hayato is running through the kitchen as Casto yells at his men to grab him.

Hayato runs out into the streets, grateful that he keeps his money and jewelry on him at all times. The only thing left at the restaurant are his casual clothes, no great loss. He probably will lose his job at this restaurant, but the owner will write him a good recommendation, even if he has to convince him with a few explosives, or maybe an anonymous tip to the police about his finances.

He sends a text off saying that he's alright before taking the long way home, backtracking multiple times to break off any tails. He doesn't think they will bother that much, he wasn't so important, but better to be safe than dead.

When he gets back, Valeria and Bianchi are waiting for him. Both look ready to head out if needed, Bianchi with her gun and Valeria with sweats on and her brass knuckles hanging from her wrist. They welcome him back with relief, one with food and a hug, the other with a set of rings and the determination to beat Dying Will flames and their uses into Hayato's head.

(He does get a hug from Bianchi before she leaves for her next job, with a warning to stay safe.)

 

**19\. Rings**

"So all you do is push your will in these and they'll light up?" Valeria asks, poking the Rain ring in its case.

They were simple in design, a band of polished metal with a small chip of stone inlaid in the center. Bianchi got them the entire set, even though she says she's pretty sure Hayato is a Storm. She stays long enough to teach him the basics but is gone, leaving him with seven rings and an order to light one up.

"In theory," Hayato grunts, focusing on the Storm ring. He should be able to light this one up; his entire family was full of Storms, according to Bianchi. "They are supposed to make it easier for your flames to use." But no matter how hard he tries there isn't a flicker of flame coming out.

"Screw it," he sets the ring down in its case and drops back on the couch.

"Maybe you should take a break," Valeria suggests, trading her Mist ring for the Sun ring still twisting between his fingers.

"But I should be able to do this, I'm just not trying hard enough," Hayato argues, frowning at the rings. He focuses his will again. He needs to be able to do this. He can't stay hidden away from the mafia (from his father) by himself, he needs a way to defend himself.

Warmth floods his hand in spurts as a trembling dark blue flame pulls itself out of the ring.

"Valeria!" He chokes out, staring at the Mist flames coming out from the ring.

"Wow. Those are Flames?" Valeria passes her hand through them and they snuff out. "Oops, sorry. What did you do differently this time?"

Hayato looks at the rings, going back through the theory Bianchi shoved down his throat. "Intent," he whispers, the pieces fitting into the puzzle of the rings. "I wanted to hide from the Mafia, I wanted the power to stay away from them. No wonder Storm didn't work, I was thinking like a Mist!"

"In Italian that means?"

"Look, different Flames have different attributes," Hayato says, pulling his notes forward and pointing to the various diagrams. "You can't use a Mist flame to destroy something, and you can't use Storm to hide. Hang on, let me try again."

Hayato pulls on the Storm ring and focuses, this time on destruction. The intensity of a storm, the way he feels when a plan is pulled off to perfection, each explosion going off according to his internal clock. The wild feeling of playing in front of the audience, catching their attention and keeping it until he's done playing. He opens his eyes to see a cherry red flame dancing over the ring. It's much brighter than the Mist flame, larger too.

Valeria passes an incense stick through the flame. "Cool," she says as the tips of the incense crumbles instead of catching flame. "Do you think you can use any of the other rings?"

Hayato looks down on the rings. He slips the Mist ring back on and with some concentration pulls the indigo flames out at the same time at the Storm flame. "Maybe," he says, watching flickering flame, possibilities rushing through his mind.

It takes a month before Hayato can light all the rings except for Sky, and for once Valeria doesn't tease him on his taste in jewelry. The rings join his chains and piercings as part of his image.

They end up having to contact Bianchi to find where she got the rings when Hayato breaks them while practicing. The newer, higher quality rings cost a decent sum, but the strength of flame Hayato can pull using them makes them worth the cost.

Valeria manages to pull Mist flames while practicing with Hayato and they quietly get her a Mist ring. They practice their illusions together, Mist being the most useful flame they have apart from Hayato's Sun flames which they both shamelessly abuse to keep practicing beyond normal limits. Valeria has fun changing her face while Hayato takes the opposite approach and tries to turn himself invisible.

Shrieks of laughter fill the air as parts of his body disappear while others remain visible. One memorable time he loses his clothes and hair and nothing else.

It’s a work in progress.

 

**20\. Happiness**

His name is Hayato Gokudera.

He's thirteen years old, has a place to sleep and a career he loves. He has a friend in Valeria, is mending his relationship with his sister and hasn't killed anyone in months.

He isn't out of the Mafia's eye, but he has rings to defend himself, and Valeria when it comes down to it.

It's small, but he has a home, and for the first time since he was six years old...

He's happy.


End file.
